


Final Season 7--where do we go from here

by Ursa_99



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst?, Bro the series is over, Clarke didn't transcend bc made a mess in the judging room, Clarke's 'Oh shit' moment when she learned she was forced to take the test was a mood, Don't really know what category to put his in, Guys I don't know what to do with my life!, Our people deserved better, Slight/hinted Bellark, What was that ending, Where did the science go?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursa_99/pseuds/Ursa_99
Summary: SEASON 7x16 spoilers!!!“Why do you still do this” Clarke finally asked, hours must have gone by and while not feeling uncomfortable per say, Clarke still doesn’t know why it’s only her.“Why did you always put your people first when your enemies were doing the same and actions were no different than with the enemy before that”And the weird round about questions continue.“Because I couldn’t just sit on my ass and judge an entire species based on one individual. We are more than just the sum of all parts just as much as we are separate from the whole”The being hums and leans back, closing their eyes again as if to catch some more rest. Clarke wanders if they ever need to sleep.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Eric Jackson, Clarke Griffin & John Murphy, Clarke Griffin & Madi, Clarke Griffin & Nathan Miller, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Roan, Picasso - Relationship
Kudos: 51





	Final Season 7--where do we go from here

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to thank all y'all for making the community of the 100 so immersive, fun, endearing. I can't put in the right words. I feel so many different emotions right now, and possibly forever for this series. All I know is that this series has changed me forever, has impressed upon my soul a mark that I can not see but feel. I wonder if you feel the same.
> 
> I thank you all for making the last several years of my life amazing, I look for ward to theories, and stories, art, and experiences. This show is just as complex and gray as it's characters and the fandom is no different, and I wouldn't have it any other way. May we meet again, be it is a prequal series, a reboot, or just another show that instills undefinable feelings just like this one has.

She still can’t believe it.

There were so few of them left and they were the people who hated her the most, and yet…they gave of a peaceful haven void of pain and suffering for her.

It doesn’t feel real.

It also doesn’t stop the sorrow that fills her.

She misses her mom.

She misses Bellamy.

She misses Madi.

It’s been days since she’s slept.

The light sounds of snoring fill the empty clearing, it was as easy going as the smiles on her friends faces, as if they didn’t get whipped out.

The only comfort she has is that Madi, while gone, wasn’t in pain anymore.

Maybe the fight is all she is, no humanity but her, what is there to do now when there is no one else to kill.

And maybe Jasper was right, his conclusion that they were the problem the cycle won’t be broken, not when they’re here but…

There will be no next generation, no new chance for destruction, but also no new chance for doing better than those who came before.

The bittersweet hasn’t faded. Clarke doesn’t think it ever will.

All she has now is time, time to think and get lost in her head. Time to relive every time the world threw her to the floor and stepped on her throat.

She finally sleeps when she passes out gathering herbs that should have died when her world burned for what was thought to be the last time.

If Miller was there when she woke screaming of bullets long past shot, he doesn’t say anything.

Nor does Echo leave her when she wonders off the barely worn path.

Murphy and Emori flank her flank her while she cooks an old meal common in the days of her in the valley with Madi.

Jackson starts to join her in her herb gathering, asking for stories and detailed medical questions that she’s had to do.

Jordan and Hope, a new breath of life in their interaction alone, stalk her for stories; both too curious on all the stories they’ve been told, at least when they weren’t so engrossed in each other.

Clarke often wonders if they’ve truly under stood the price of sacrifice they’ve done to be with her.

Wanheda in all her former glory…Clarke is still trying to find out who she is now.

Picasso is attached to her at the hip, happy as can be. And Raven, Raven becomes the sister she once was after shared confession over the firelight when everyone else was asleep.

It’s only half a year later when Clarke really starts to let herself feel happy, despite everything.

Clarke learns to love without fear, for there is nothing else to kill those who she loves. Somewhere alone the way Wanheda died, just as Clarke did when she was sent to the ground.

The first time she breaks down in front of anyone is with Murphy and their newest batch of moonshine, Clarke doesn’t remember much only that everyone walks on eggshells for a few weeks—just like when they first got here, always in that subtle way.

And then it would ease.

But then she’d break down again.

Another cycle.

There’re fights and words thrown, surprising sometimes without Clarke in the premises or involved at all.

Raven tells her that the pain they feel means they’re alive, that it’s better than endless bliss even if they’ve gotten a choice. Clarke doesn’t believe her, so Raven throws her into the lake.

It’s a true laugh that comes from her through, from the last bit of her soul left.

She gets better, mind you not all at once and not fast. You can only do so much with rubble from a destroyed temple.

Eventually the ups and downs lessen in magnitude, mostly. Clarke still cries, silently, but there is almost always someone there with her this time. Someone breathing, finally understanding the pains of being leader and martyr.

Her sins slowly seep out, and she’s afraid. Afraid they’ll contaminate the only good thing she has left.

There are more arguments, more heart to hearts that should have happened so long ago. There’s a peacefulness knowing that they will be the last.

They travel the different worlds, see different flora and fauna after three years on Earth; but Earth is home, and all of them return back and stay more often, sometimes the forest is more home than the empty structures that once housed hundreds of souls. They’re desolate now, and forever, at least for humans.

Clarke wonders what will come next. Maybe Picasso’s species will come next, but the dog only wags its tail. Unhurried by survival with such low threats besides the environment, funny given how much of a threat nature truly can be. Maybe one day she’ll be like that, accepting and worry free.

It’s two more years and everyone’s closer together, a few close scrapes here or there. It freaks Clarke out at first and she hides away thinking that it could have been the last time Echo would be breathing or that Jackson would have to talk her through every procedure instead of show her and help her with his hands.

She stays on the perimeter after that for a while, like she’s had for the first two years they were there. It’s not a surprise that it’s Raven and Murphy teaming up to drag her back, tying her down and talking to her through her panic attack.

It’s not the first time she lashes out, damning them all for giving up their immortality for her. And pleading, begging to know why. Raven just rolls her eyes and watches as Jackson cares for her fever and hallucinations that seem far more potent than the first time they ate the nuts.

Damn those jobi nuts, out of everything that survived it was cockroaches (herself and Murphy included with their insect brethren) and those stupid nuts that she brought back. They looked familiar and edible, to bad they were both.

All Murphy did was sing to her before slapping her in the face with a fish, telling her “I’ve tried that once, wasn’t as appealing as it seems. You get quite bored”

Clarke wants to hate them, but she has never been able to before, not in anyway that truly made a difference.

If this is her penance for her actions it’s not the worst thing to happen. The ups and downs come and go, but they’re predictable now more so than ever before.

Clarke feels herself healing.

She comes across one of the beings, or maybe it was the same one that barred her from transcendence after murdering Bill in a room of judgement where no one has murdered before. Good for her, Wanheda was now university and forever known.

A medal is what Miller and Murphy agreed on naming her actions, Emori agreed that Cadogan had it coming and frankly that the beings were assholes. Raven had her thinking cap on, and surprisingly said she’d have done the same thing with maybe just one clip less into Bill’s body.

Clarke thinks it’s the being that she chewed out during the test, given the curiosity and—irritation—fighting for control. She gets into an argument with them—it?—they, whatever, and she’s afraid Gem9 will swallow the last of her tentative peace.

Nothing happens and days later the being shows up again—to watch, as they put it. Watch what, Clarke doesn’t know, the paranoid part says it’s her. The hopeful part says that it’s humanity they’re thinking about and how wrong they were to pass judgment on humans by looking at _just_ her. Clarke never wanted to take the test and wanted to leave as soon as she rid the world of Cadogan, but of course things weren’t that simple.

Jordan is the first to say her title _Wanheda_ since the “last war”, it happened when he, Raven, and Hope were caught in an avalanche on that frozen world, why they were there she didn’t know, didn’t care. Clarke didn’t want to lead anymore now that there were no threats, now that her people were safe. From time to time she would still be put in charge but it never bothered her, not like it did before. Not when there were live at stake, instead it was in times when her friends needed her knowledge of surviving in inhospitable environments or something of the like. What’s the best way to bandage a cut, how would you do this…not how would you eradicate a whole population.

Clarke had saved them by no great means than pulling the three out of the way as ice daggers threatened to impale them and digging them out as snow encased them. She doesn’t think Jordan quite grasps her title, but even if the glowing shine in his eyes told her otherwise, he didn’t seem to care of what it once meant.

It was nice to have the Commander of Death only ward off ones impending doom instead of cause it.

They return back home, to Earth. Again, and again, only really leaving if they’re stir crazy or needed some piece of tech. Picasso got a friend—several actually, looking just like her, from Sanctum. How they’ve survived no one knew, but they were happy thus making everyone else happy with their silly mannerisms.

It was nice.

The beings that threatened to irradicate them only seemed to visit Clarke, she’d ask about Madi and the rest, and the being would reply. It was like a tentative friendship that Clarke never knew would bud, nor did she know when would appear or disappear again.

The beings almost took pleasure in surprising her.

Clarke can’t tell if it’s three months or three more years, she doesn’t know and has long stopped caring; not because of hopelessness now but because she’s lighter than ever and has peace. True peace.

While her sins still stain her, they are not as potent and don’t destroy everything around her. It doesn’t stop her night terrors though, those and the memories of all those she’s failed to saved or killed to save someone else will always haunt her.

So, she takes a breath and then another, but all the same she takes one.

Her hair is longer now, much like the days when they were first sent to the ground. She’s drawing, looking over the clearing that everyone else is playing in, a soccer ball that has somehow survived was being passed all around the field.

Clarke feels the presence, the warmth of the being before she sees a leg next to her. She wonders who it will be, often it’s Lexa, other times it was her mother, more common now it’s becoming Bellamy and on those days she’d shut herself away to wallow in sorrow and misery. He is one sin that may never be not potent.

A gruff sigh let’s her know it’s one of the days she gets the King of Azgeda all to herself. This being taking the face of Roan sits. Every time a being visits her, they get closer, as if trying to take her up in way they were unable to during transcendence, but she knows that’s not true. At least she doesn’t think so, but they were no more fickle than humanity despite their ‘I know better than you’ pure logic minds.

“I was right you know” the body of Roan said, “One day they will thank you”

Clarke stops sketching and side eyes the being, it’s never not unnerving to have someone read you and your memories. Even more so when they can do it painlessly and without your knowing.

She hums, thinking back to how this morning everyone was recovering and being a lot more loose lipped than normal. There was no great fight but nostalgia was getting to them, and all the pain from when they were children came back. But they apologized to her and thanked her, telling her they wouldn’t have made it to alpha without her. Clarke herself apologized until everyone else got tired from apologizing to one another and forgiving her back; no one else but Jordan would sit and listen and then apologize again before forgiving and apologizing again in a back and forth that would go on forever if Emori didn’t drag the two of them off to their cots to wait for the hangover in the morning.

In a way Roan was right.

The being laughed, “Always with a gratitude problem”

Clarke feels herself cracking a smile, the beings were more often then not better than the ghosts she’s seen over the years.

“Something like that” she replied softly.

Roan’s face smiled, still looking down at her friends with her, “I still don’t understand it”

Clarke wanted to ask for what but the being was already on their feet.

“You are different Clarke Griffin, definitely not the best to take the test for your species” if not for the grin and the years between the two of them now, Clarke would have been offended and maybe have shot the being. She’s never left a gun off her person, even in her sleep; it was probably a habit she’d take to the grave.

“Thanks” she snorted. If she was a bit salty after she found out the only reason why everyone else transcended but her was because she dirtied one of their judging rooms, well, Murphy still got a kick out of it.

The being shook it’s head, “One day I’d like to know why you are the duality of your species, but that day is not today. Your friends will want to greet you now”

It was short and to the point, and very different from anything Roan would have said at that moment; but Clarke dipped her head, the beings would always be confusing to her as she is to them, at least that’s what it always seems like.

Though even that last part was off, even for the transcended high beings.

So, Clarke sits and draws, trying to puzzle away what the beings say, why they only talk to her—Jordan always tries to tag along but the first time the two of them startled a being it was five months till another showed up again leaving Jordan to sulk.

Clarke is so caught up in her thoughts and her drawing of everyone she’s ever lost that she doesn’t notice the pairs of feet behind her. She only barely recognizes that some one sat to her right and another to the right of the person to her right. Some how it doesn’t click.

“I’ve forgotten how well you can draw”

Both Clarke’s hand and thoughts come to a screeching halt.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Not when she could have had dozens of _centuries_ for happiness.

“I miss him too, Clarke”

Clarke opens her mouth but her voice cracks before cutting out, a whisper or a whimper or something between the two dying out as fast as it came. She didn’t notice the warmth that the beings would exude.

Darke hair and bright mischievous eyes are glowing at her. Another pair looking at her in familiarity and greeting before curiously turning around to the environment, eager almost greedy in away to learn all the secrets still hidden around them.

“Octavia” Clarke blinks hard, but no amount of blinking or rubbing her eyes till stars dance back at her will cause the woman to leave.

“Octavia” Clarke states again, voice more grave. “What—how—why—do you know that you can’t—”

“Yeah, yeah” Octavia waves her off, her head coming to rest on Clarke’s shoulder, “to mundane and to crowded…to many voices in one body”

Except for the fact that it was nothing like that and that they would have been at peace.

“But”

Octavia cuts her off again, raising her head just so, “tell me a story Clarke”

It catches her off guard, but even Levitt doesn’t seem concerned, if anything he still looks like he’s at peace sitting between the giant roots of a tree he’s been inspecting.

Clarke doesn’t know what to do, or should do, doesn’t know what to say about or how to say that Octavia shouldn’t be here. That she’s given up a peace that she deserves after all she’s been through.

“What do you want to hear” is what Clarke grits out, her heartbeat becoming unruly.

The woman hums. “Tell me about the hundred sent to the ground”

“Hundred and two” it’s out before Clarke can catch herself from the scolding like manner. Clarke clears her throat, “It’s actually a hundred and two” she starts. She can feel the woman huff out a small laugh.

If they go till the moon rises and sets again than the three of them don’t notice, if anything the two should be beings but actually aren’t anything but her friends, are hanging onto every word.

If Clarke’s laugh after Octavia begged to scare, and she did scare (“Murphy, really, you’re the loudest” “Shut up”), the others, was too innocent for the monster she has become, well it was no one’s business but her own.

That next day, and week and months were better. Filled with more life. New bonds were formed between Levitt and the gang. The tension between him and Echo more of an amusement now than a fear. Hope’s lows were nowhere near as low as they were before with Octavia and Echo back with her.

As for Octavia and her, they talked about all manors of things, mainly Bellamy, and how in this bazar world they live in he was right.

There was pain between them but also forgiveness, more yet there was understanding. And the greatest of all peace.

Time seemed to be meaningless again, Octavia and her would spar alongside Raven and Echo, Clarke’s own hidden memories of the flame would come out with much curiosity, emotions, and sympathy to follow from the rest. If only they ever had a real time to talk.

It was when Clarke and Octavia were alone sparing again, when Clarke beat her for the first time. While Clarke could shoot better than the rest, Octavia had the physical skill and experience when it was one on one and no gun. It was funny when it happened, both too shocked to do much more than stare at one another, at least until laughter filled between them.

It was also when the being would show up, this time as Diyoza. Clarke could feel Octavia freeze next to her but then loosen. Maybe the beings weren’t as shy around Clarke and her friends any more, or maybe it was because Octavia was once part of them for a longer time, Clarke didn’t know; but the being taking the form of Diyoza got closer, doing nothing more than noding in the direction in which they wanted to walk.

They didn’t disappear when Octavia never left her side but didn’t speak, it was almost like their presence was supposed to ease some form of tension in Octavia and her. A last parting gift in a way from the woman who chose to sacrifice herself to keep her daughter from fallowing her footsteps.

There were no words, but seemed like there didn’t need to be. A small nod and that smile still on Diyoza’s face was all that was needed.

Jordan was fanatic that evening and a little bit jealous of a being appearing with Octavia there, Hope was indifferent (“it’s not her anyway, not really”) if it weren’t for the fact that she never had a great grasp on keeping her facial muscles even when she gets deeply emotionally involved in something. The others had their own thoughts and opinions (“you’re the alien whisperer, Clarke” Miller had said), but all were always eager to hear her interactions with the beings for some reason.

But it seemed to be a fluke, any other time it was just Clarke or the being would wait to approach when whoever was next to her would go away.

It became an unspoken rule, both for her friends and the higher beings that seemed to be more flies on the wall; because hey, what else to do while you wait for evolution to spit out the next sentient species to be judged.

Over the time she sees the faces she’s once forgotten like Atom, Charlette, Finn (that one had Raven not sad but nostalgic for a few days), Fox, Monroe…more still she sees the one’s she misses the most like Monty and Harper, Wells, her father.

Each time she feels like one of her ghosts settles down for peace. A final farewell for many.

The night terrors are still there but her lungs don’t close completely, nor does her throat constrict when someone stumbles into camp with a broken bone carrying a second party unconscious on their back.

No, this punishment is somehow more and less than she deserves, but Clarke doesn’t feel bad for herself all the time anymore, instead she focuses on doing better despite the fact that there is no new war to fight, no new enemy to slain.

She thinks she would be able to break out of the cycle if something were to happen now, Miller still had his fascinations and low key wants of alien take overs that had everyone conjuring up what they’d want as alien invaders.

Though even in the event that she couldn’t, well she’d take a breath and take another before doing something now.

The higher beings almost seem to come more often, maybe they’re bored with nothing to do. Maybe that’s why they’re always judging.

Clarkes finish drawing when she gets the warm feeling for today, she’s found over the years she’s grown quite accustomed to the higher beings in her now simple life.

They seem more human now and it makes Clarke wonder not just about the conglomerate existence of them, but also about what it’s like to transcend, but she’s had multiple devices in her head that give her a picture of something most foul even if you had choice and no pain.

Her eyes are closed, she’s leaned back with one-foot dangling off the tree and into the water. She waits to see who’s face she’ll meet.

She does not expect to see the nightblood she tried to make commander mirroring her on the next branch over.

“Luna” Still with all the time she’s spent with the higher beings, Clarke can never stop herself from calling out to the faces.

The being smiles, sitting side by side.

“Why her” Clarke asks, Luna would forever be a sin stained into her. Clarke would do anything for her people just like Luna, the only difference is that Luna did not want to fight until Clarke brought ruin to her people.

“She is close to you”

Clarke frowned, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, she held Luna hostage and used her for her blood, she was no different than the mountain men at that time even if she changed her mind not to put Emori in the testing chambers.

The being must have felt something in her, “You both had a great deal of drive to save your people”

“Except that Luna did not want to fight fire with fire, she did not agree with blood must not have blood”

“Yes, I suppose Luna is a failure in your learning to prevent the cycle from continuing on. Blood must not have blood, as you put it so long ago when you were a child…but there is still a similarity between you two”

Yeah, that was one thing Clarke did not like about the high beings. They could still hit her where it hurt.

Clarke was quiet, the time for transcending was past, there is no meaning to why her sins still spill when the beings come; but it happens all the same. Maybe in another life when she was not a child sent to die and then lead, would things have been different. Maybe she would have more than just one person to help carry her burdens of leadership.

Clarke doesn’t say anything for along while, instead she does what she can to enjoy herself, to live and not survive. She thinks the higher being is doing the same because neither of them speaks, they just let the water take away any pain and tension.

“Why do you still do this” Clarke finally asked, hours must have gone by and while not feeling uncomfortable per say, Clarke still doesn’t know why it’s only her.

“Why did you always put your people first when your enemies were doing the same and actions were no different than with the enemy before that”

And the weird round about questions continue.

“Because I couldn’t just sit on my ass and judge an entire species based on one individual. We are more than just the sum of all parts just as much as we are separate from the whole”

The being hums and leans back, closing their eyes again as if to catch some more rest. Clarke wanders if they ever need to sleep.

“You humans are an emotional, and complex species”

She has to hold her tongue, while she’s sure Gem9 wouldn’t ever be sent there was always a distinct possibility, that and that the high beings she’s learned don’t like to have their own species to be questioned or defied half the time. She could have sworn the last true fight she had with one of the beings lead to it sulking away and waiting two months to show back up again.

It’s past dark when Luna the high being departs, in her—their eyes Clarke could almost see a new understanding or at least a new thought about humans. Or maybe it’s just the high beings have learned enough about humans, form those who have transcended, that they have no problem being just as vague to confuse her. At the end of the day both humans and high beings were frustrating.

“May we meet again” is the only thing Clarke hears and feels the cold slipping in, to tell that her guest is gone again. She closed her eyes.

Clarke trudges back to her friends, her family, it’s another story around the campfire with who visited her this time.

They celebrate her birthday in the morning, in part as an excuse to be drunk before noon. It only dawns on her after Hope brings it up, but she’s one of the youngest if not the youngest of everyone, the only other younger is possibly Miller.

Murphy takes pride in calling them the children of the universe, and tries to take their moonshine away. Miller is having none of it, and decides to try and steal Murphy’s alcohol instead. Clarke just sips away enjoying the peaceful chaos that is her friends.

She’s the first to wake the next day, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to be the only one walking today.

If Clarke sees a flash of something familiar and follows, then no one is none the wiser. If she stumbles across giant roots and new green shrubs than there are no eyes to see the progression of Earth’s healing. If there is a higher being dressed in the face of Wells with a pout on his face and something akin to disbelief at something Clarke knows nothing about, then who cares.

If the high being sighs with frustration, transforming to a new face every few seconds as Clarke falls to her knees with a name on her lips, no one is any wiser. If the heads popping out around the trees are human or not, she doesn’t notice. Instead she looks to the horde of children.

Her heart hammers as a familial face leads the way, lunging towards her in a hug as Clarke clings to the girl who clings back with a similar fierceness. Then who cares.

If Clarke learns that all the children wanted to survive and live and love together, willing to give up immortality just so they can grow up.

Then who cares.

She has her home.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to give Clarke her happiness. And could not the other kids who've transcended come back. Like come on don't let Clarke have neither of her two most important people.


End file.
